


Diamonds on the Surface

by jay_of_the_beholder



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: 18 months, Bad Puns, Bad Sleeping Habits, Banter, Because we all know it's mutual, Come on Ben and Alex give us the Zoscar in canon, Flirting, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Japan Arc, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oscar needs to sleep, Pining, Post-Rome, Sharing a Bed, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26437669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jay_of_the_beholder/pseuds/jay_of_the_beholder
Summary: Zolf comes down with a fever, and Wilde insists on taking care of him.Or: the sickfic no one asked for.
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 6
Kudos: 79





	Diamonds on the Surface

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to mess with the idea of Wilde getting sick and Zolf taking care of him, but let's shake it up a bit.

Wilde doesn’t realize at first; immersing himself in work is an easy path to missing things that seem obvious in hindsight. But one day he looks up and something clicks. Zolf  _ had _ been more tired recently. His eyes are duller and his posture less rigid than it normally is. So when Zolf walks into his office and has to ask him to repeat a few things, Wilde can see the bags under his eyes, and the almost invisible shift of weight heavier onto his glaive.

“Zolf, are you alright?”

The dwarf blinks, then waves him off. “M’fine Wilde.”

Wilde hums, looking him over. “You seem... under the weather.”

“Everything’s under the weather, it’s in the sky,” he grumbles. Wilde can’t help the tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Really, Zolf. Are you alright? I don’t feel comfortable sending you out if you’re not equipped to handle yourself, never mind on your own.”

Zolf gives him a weary look. “Barnes and Carter are out, and this needs to get done. ‘M fine to do it.”

Wilde watches him for a moment, meets his determined gaze, and sighs. “Yes, alright. Be back tonight or I’ll send someone to look for you.”

A teasing smile is thrown his way, but it feels strained. “Not gonna do it yourself?”

He takes it in stride, shuffling through a few papers on his desk. “I may have to, just in case you end up face down in the middle of nowhere. I’ll spare you the embarrassment.”

“How kind of you.” Zolf shifts to lean more heavily on his glaive and turns. “Be back soon.”

Wilde looks up at him. “Zolf?”

“Hm?” the dwarf turns.

He draws out some sincerity, hoping Zolf can see it. “Come back safe.”

Zolf blinks, then nods once. “I will.”

He turns quietly and leaves, and Wilde is left with the now familiar pang of worry that follows the departure of his friend.

\---

He’s not back.

Wilde is pacing the length of his office, debating on sitting in the lobby to wait.

No, no he can’t do that. Thankfully, Zolf is staying on the island, so he doesn’t have to quarantine to come back. But Wilde still needs to maintain an air of professionalism about him, can’t go running off after someone who can take care of himself.

He really hopes his relief doesn’t show too obviously on his face when a familiar pattern of knocks sounds at the door. He  _ really _ hopes it doesn’t come through in his tone.

“Come in.”

And a familiar dwarf staggers in, leaning heavily on his glaive.

“Hey Wilde. Gotcha this.” He holds out a piece of paper, but Wilde can see his weight is too far forward, and is already rushing over to catch Zolf as he falls. He’s much heavier than Wilde had anticipated, and feels himself falling with their combined weight. He ends up on the ground with a lap full of dwarf.

Wilde attempts to quickly turn him over, frowning deeply at how pale he is. Zolf’s eyes flutter as Wilde presses his lips to the dwarf’s forehead.

“You’re burning.”

Zolf gives him a half-smile. “Not what I usually hear.”

“Have you got a fever or something?” He gets a shrug in response and rolls his eyes. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

“But--”

“Nope. Up you get.” Wilde’s grateful for the compliance, he wouldn’t have been able to pick Zolf up on his own. He does, however, stagger down the hall as Zolf leans on him heavily; one arm around his waist and the other on his glaive. Wilde feels his skin burn under where Zolf’s palm rests, likely just from the fever. They make it down the hall though, and into Zolf’s room. The small he sleeps on looks properly uncomfortable, and Wilde frowns.

“No, this won’t do.”

And so he drags a half protesting dwarf up to his room instead, and eventually gets him to lie down; his prosthetics carefully discarded on the side of the bed.

“Pretentious arse.” Zolf mumbles, already looking more relaxed on the softer mattress. “Yer bed feels like a cloud.”

Wilde smiles a bit from where he’s getting water from the sink. “Well, get used to it.” He turns off the water and approaches the bed. “You’re going to be here for a couple days.”

Zolf frowns and attempts to sit up, but Wilde gently lays a hand on his chest. “Not a chance.”

“S’this payback, Wilde? For making  _ you  _ take care of yerself?”

He shrugs, setting the water on the bedside table and fluffing a few extra pillows. “Admittedly… just a bit. But mainly because you need to get better. We need you on your best game, and you’re not on it when you’re sick.”

Zolf settles begrudgingly back onto the pillows and takes a small sip of the glass of water Wilde offers to him.

“How’re you gonna survive without me for a couple days?”

“We’ll make do, I’m sure Carter knows how to cook something.”

Zolf glares at him. “If Carter even comes  _ near _ my kitchen, I’m running him through with my glaive.”

Wilde lets out a short laugh. “Well the gods know I can’t cook. Who else do you expect to do it?”

“Literally anyone but Carter,” Zolf grumbles, looking far too cute snuggling into the pillows with his glass. Wilde rolls his eyes and stands.

“Get some rest. I’ll come check on you in the morning.”

Zolf looks up at him. “Where’ll you sleep?”

He pauses. “I’ll… hm.”

“You need to sleep Wilde, we’ve talked about this--”

“I know,” he sighs. “I know. I’ll find somewhere. It’s not your concern.”

“It is when I’m in yer bed.”

Wilde gives him a crooked smile. “I wish it were under different circumstances, Mr. Smith.”

He earns an eye roll. “If it were different circumstances I’d get up and show you what I think of that comment.” Wilde knows it’s a threat, but he can never resist the temptation.

“I look forward to it.” He throws a wink, then regrets it when it pulls at his scar.  _ Brush it off. Move forward. _ “Still, these are the circumstances and you need rest. I’ll leave you to it. Do be sure to get better, hm?”

“Yeah I’ll try my best.” Zolf says simply, turning his gaze to the ceiling. Wilde nods once and turns to leave, but stops in the doorway.

“Sleep well. See you in the morning.”

“G’night Wilde,” he hears from the bed, and the slight sincerity is enough to make him smile a bit to himself every so often throughout the night.

\---

He can’t get anything past Zolf. The moment he walks into the room with a plate of fruit and some coffee, he’s greeted with a scrutinizing gaze looking him over.

“I knew it.”

Wilde sets the plate down on the side table. “Knew what?” he asks innocently, drawing up a chair for himself and perching himself on it.

Zolf turns over to watch him take a sip of his own coffee, and Wilde looks at him over the rim of the mug.

“You didn’t sleep.”

Wilde scoffs unconvincingly. “I did.”

“How much?”

“Enough.”

Zolf gives him a wilting look, to which he offers up the plate.

“There’s strawberries.”

The dwarf sighs, begrudgingly picking at the fruit. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“You need to sleep.”

He looks up at the ceiling with exasperation, before settling them back on Zolf. “I assure you I’ll be perfectly fine, Mr. Smith. You needn’t worry.”

“Fancy words ain’t gonna charm me, Wilde. You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

And oh, how Wilde  _ loves _ this banter. He’d missed it after he’d been cursed and after the party had gone to Rome. He’d certainly missed Zolf’s teasing remarks after he’d left in Prague. So he can’t help the genuine smile that tugs at his lips.

“Really, Zolf, you know me better than to expect any less.”

The dwarf in question rolls his eyes, but Wilde can see a light in them that matches his own. They don’t get many moments like this; never did in the past. It’s something Wilde wishes he could bottle up and keep for a rainy day. He wonders if Zolf feels like that too.

He must do, why else would the air in the room feel so warm between both of them?

“Come on, let’s get some fresh air,” he suggests. “Are you well enough to stand?”

Zolf grunts as he sits up, and swings his legs over the bed. “Yeah. Help me get these on?” he asks, gesturing to the prosthetics.

“Of course.”

They make their way carefully down the hall and out of the back door, Zolf with one hand around Wilde’s waist once again and Wilde making sure he doesn’t fall. It’s much easier with more of his strength back, and they make it to the beach in one piece. Zolf sits heavily against one of the larger rocks, and lays his glaive next to him. Wilde sits on top of a smaller rock next to him, and they gaze out at the sea.

Wilde can never focus on the waves. Though beautiful, sparkling in the morning sun as if there were thousands of diamonds on the surface, he hears the deep exhales of breath next to him and feels the fabric of Zolf’s coat brush his leg. Really, it’s not too bothersome, but sometimes he wishes he could just see the sea as Zolf does. Truly, he wonders.

“S’not the same,” Zolf says aloud as if reading Wilde’s thoughts. “It’s… hard sometimes. To see everything you were, ‘n’then realize you aren’t that anymore.” He breathes again, and the relaxation that seems to come over him makes Wilde a tad envious.

“I don’t know how I feel about it,” he says honestly. Quietly. “Changing. Becoming a new person.”

“D’you think you’re getting better?”

Wilde huffs a short laugh, though it holds no humor. “I certainly can’t get any worse.”

Zolf gives him a sidelong glance, a teasing glint in his eye. “You’d find a way.”

He takes it in stride, throwing Zolf a casual smirk. “I’d like to believe you think more highly of me than that.”

This time, he gets a more sincere gaze. “Yeah. I do.” He returns to gazing out at the waves, but Wilde’s gaze is fixated on him.

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think you’re… getting better?”

Zolf smiles a bit. “I feel a lot better than I did last night.”

Wilde tilts his head. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

He gets a breathy laugh in response. Then after a moment: “yeah. I’d like to think so. I mean, I wouldn’t have much motivation to keep improvin’ if I didn’t think I was gettin’ any better.”

Wilde nods. “A fair point.”

They fall back into a momentary silence, before Zolf begins to stand. Wilde leans down to help him up and with arms around each other they begin their short trek back to the inn.

\---

“Stubborn arse.”

“As much as I  _ love _ what you’re insisting--”

“Oh for gods’ sakes Wilde.”

“I’m not going to come to bed with you.”

Zolf huffs. “I’m not sayin’  _ that _ an’ you know it. I’m sayin’ I’ll give ya yer bed back tonight.”

“Oh,” Wilde huffs a laugh, “and you’ll sleep on your little cot downstairs? Not while you’re sick.”

Zolf makes a move to get up, and Wilde easily pushes him back down.

“You won’t win this one, Zolf,” he says with a crooked smirk. “One more night of good rest and you’ll be plenty able to drown me in a bucket in the morning if you please.”

“Are we going to keep bringing that up?” Zolf asks, dragging a hand over his face. “I really hate that we keep bringing that up.”

“It’s amusing,” Wilde insists, taking the fresh glass of water off of the side table and urging it towards the dwarf. “And I’m still not convinced you won’t make good your word one day.”

Zolf takes the water. “Keep this up and I will,” he grumbles into the glass with no malice behind his words. He hands it back to Wilde and his fingers brush Zolf’s as he takes it. He stands, taking the glass to the sink and washing it out.

“You gotta sleep, Wilde,” he hears an irritated voice call from the bed. “No excuses this time.”

Wilde dries the glass and puts it on the sinktop, poking his head out of the doorway. “None at all?”

Zolf frowns.

He sighs and dries his hands, walking back over to lean on the side table. Wilde watches Zolf for a few moments, and Zolf watches him right back. The lamplight flickering in the darkened room. There’s an odd hum in the air, Wilde wonders if it’s his imagination or some sort of magic. Magic always thrums around Zolf, giving him semblances of hope and reassurance. Perhaps that’s why Wilde enjoys being around him so much. Or maybe it's the security; the feeling of trusting someone again.

Perhaps it’s something else entirely.

“Get in bed,” Zolf sighs, breaking eye contact and pulling the blankets back on the other side of the bed. He turns to face that side, away from Wilde, and it’s a clear invitation.

He doesn’t even think to decline, dimming the lamp and making his way over.

The mattress is soft, thousands of times more so than his unforgiving desk chair. And to see a tired, relaxed face staring back at him as he lays down, well. He hasn’t felt peacefulness like this in a long time. Zolf hesitantly reaches an arm out, and Wilde takes it as an opportunity to scoot closer. They fit, somehow, in a bit of a tangle. But once they settle he feels Zolf’s content exhale of breath match his own.

This won’t be talked about, Wilde’s smart enough to know that. So he savors the feeling of Zolf in his arms, of the warm blankets and soft pillows, envisions putting it all in a jar to keep him warm on cold, rainy nights.

And then he hears a small murmur into his shirt: “g’night Oscar,” and the sincerity is enough to make him smile to himself as he drifts off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I love these two far too much.


End file.
